


Furiaka Week Drabbles

by secrettemplars (tricycleamoving)



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Agender Akashi, Agender Character, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Cute, Furiaka Week, Genderqueer Character, Genderqueer Furihata, Growing Old Together, Old Age, Other, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-03 17:59:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5301227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricycleamoving/pseuds/secrettemplars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A compilation of drabbles written for <a href="http://furiakaweek.tumblr.com/">Furiaka Week</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Laugh Lines

**Author's Note:**

> Since I'm the one organising [Furiaka Week](http://furiakaweek.tumblr.com/), I thought it would also make sense for me to contribute too! 
> 
> I'm aiming to at least write a short drabble for each day of the week, so hopefully there'll be 8 total chapters in this compilation haha.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I think age suits you well, Sei,” he says, once the waiter finishes refilling their wine glasses, and Kouki is free to fully appreciate Seijuurou, crow’s feet and laugh lines and all._
> 
> Chapter 1's prompt: **Confessions // Growing Old**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Standard gender hcs apply: Furihata is genderqueer (he/him pronouns) and Akashi is agender (they/them pronouns)

He sees the way Seijuurou fusses with their tie a little too much, the way they hold themself a little too straight, lean fingers moving to adjust the metallic glasses perched upon their nose every so often, and smiles. For one of the few times in the forty or so years they’ve known each other, it’s Seijuurou who’s being self-conscious and not him. Kouki personally thinks it’s cute.

“I think age suits you well, Sei,” he says, once the waiter finishes refilling their wine glasses, and Kouki is free to fully appreciate Seijuurou, crow’s feet and laugh lines and all.

“What makes you say that?” Seijuurou asks in reply, an eyebrow raised as the corners of their mouth quirk upwards slightly. They proceed to adjust the cuffs of their dress shirt, something Kouki figured out around twenty years ago meant that they were slightly embarrassed but entirely unwilling to show it, and he can’t help but smile again as he shakes his head lightly.

“You look good,” Kouki says, before the waiter shows up again to serve their appetisers, and contents himself with looking at the light flush lingering on Seijuurou’s face while he not-so-gracefully shoves expensive steak tartare into his mouth.  
  


* * *

  
“You look good too,” is what Seijuurou says to him later, halfway through their entrée. Considering how they were just talking about Kouki’s latest research project and his efforts to help a colleague of his reach tenure, Kouki could only conclude that this was a slip of the tongue, something Seijuurou probably didn’t want to say out loud but did anyway. He laughs, and runs a hand through his hair.

“Thank you,” Kouki says in reply, eyes crinkled into the shape of crescent moons as he smiles at Seijuurou, takes in the way the flush on their face reaches their neck, the way their breath hitches at Kouki’s smile, the way their fingers move to tug and adjust their collar. Even after so long, he has such an effect on Seijuurou, and the thought makes him feel all bubbly and tingly inside.

(Seijuurou might complain and say it’s unfair how easily Kouki can make them flustered in public, but it’s not as if they don’t have the same effect on him.)  
  


* * *

  
Seijuurou’s almost finished talking about how one of their sixteen year old nieces almost managed to beat them at a game of shogi when Kouki’s feels such a rush of adoration and happiness and _love_ run through his body that he just _has_ to speak (even though he likes to think that he’s conquered his habit of babbling ever since he got his doctorate, there are times when even he cannot stop his mouth).

Perhaps it’s the way Seijuurou speaks, full of pride and mirth and joy, or the way they smile at him, lips curled ever so gently. Perhaps it’s the way their fingers curl when they move to adjust their glasses, or the way they sometimes move their hand even closer to his on the table, fingertips lightly brushing across his knuckles. Perhaps it was just Seijuurou in their entirety, beautiful and bright and glorious, that made him want to burst into song, or stay up night after night writing sonnets and ballads and epistles dedicated to them, like he was a teenager again.

“Sei?” he asks, once Seijuurou finishes their story and they lapse into silence.

“Yes, Kouki?” Seijuurou replies, lips already quirking upwards as they wait for him to speak again.

“I’m in love with you, you know,” Kouki says, softly placing his hand above Seijuurou’s on the table as he looks at them, crow’s feet and laugh lines and all. Forty years is a long time to be in love.

Seijuurou laughs, and flushes that light pink he so adores.

“I know,” Seijuurou replies, moving to link their fingers together, “I’m in love with you too.” 


	2. Thaw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Is this your idea of a joke?” is the first thing Akashi says._ (Pre-Slash)
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter 2's prompt: Celebration // **Family**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly late, but this grew from a short 500 word drabble into an almost 2k monstrosity lol. 
> 
> A quick note: This fic is actually going to be slightly confusing orz... It's set in the same verse as chapter 1 of '[Deserted](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4983442)', but around twenty or so years after the original events in that chapter. If chapter 1 of that fic counts as part 1, this fic technically counts as part 3. I'm actually in the middle of writing the 2nd part right now, so hopefully things are slightly less confusing once I get that posted, but I've tried my best to make this part not as confusing? If y'all have any questions about what goes on in the fic, feel free to leave a comment!
> 
> Standard characterisation applies: Furihata is genderqueer (he/him pronouns) and Akashi is Agender (they/them pronouns).

It takes him weeks before Akashi even agrees to meet up with him.

He remembers the very first lunch they had together, sitting next to Akashi in a dinky ramen stall, slurping his shoyu ramen extra loudly in order to fill up the silence building up between them. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know what to say- rather, he just didn’t know _how_ to say it. One doesn’t just casually tell an intimidating almost-stranger that their thought-to-be-dead mother is actually still alive and well, and _oh, she misses you very much._

Akashi knows that he knows something, though. Furihata can tell from the suspicious side glances Akashi shoots at him every once in awhile, eyes icy and calculating. He can feel the freshwater in his blood freeze a little.

(In the end, Furihata chooses to say nothing: The atmosphere is too cold, too artificial, and it leaves his tongue numb. Akashi finishes their ramen, curtly thanks him for his company and leaves.)

It’s a hard subject to broach, especially coming from an outsider who literally stumbled into Shiori on accident during that one fateful day on the beach. Akashi Seijuurou is known to be as cold as the seawater that runs in their blood, and it’s going to take more than a lowly freshwater halfie they barely know (if having a mutual friend from high school even counts as that) to get them to melt.

Furihata waits until the seventh time they meet up for lunch to innocently bring up the idea of a road trip. Akashi’s eyes are still icy, their skin cold to the touch (it doesn’t bite, though. For some strange reason, when Furihata’s hands meet Akashi’s, he’s only more motivated to channel his own heat into the touch, to slowly thaw the ice away), but they’re a few degrees warmer than they were at the beginning, and when Furihata asks to go to the beach in the middle of winter, they don’t say no.  
  


* * *

  
“Is this your idea of a joke?” is the first thing Akashi says.

They’re standing in front of the beach house Furihata once (albeit illegally) inhabited during his last visit to this beach, gloved hands tucked into their coat pockets, and even though Akashi looks like a marshmallow underneath the number of jackets, coats and scarves they’re wearing, the glare they shoot him is as cold and piercing as an icicle. It’s only been a couple of months since he’s last been in the beach house, but for Akashi, it’s probably been _years_.

“It’s not, I swear,” Furihata manages to reply a beat later, trying to keep his gaze on Akashi for as long as possible, “It’ll make sense in a little while, okay?”

Akashi inhales. Exhales. 

“I don’t think I trust you,” Akashi says. They look at the house and repress a shudder.

“You trust me enough to come here,” Furihata replies, moving to slide a hand into Akashi’s. The feel of those gloved fingers against his is weird and foreign, but it isn’t bad, and Akashi doesn’t move their hand away. Furihata squeezes lightly and tries to give the most reassuring smile he can. He wants this to work out for Akashi, he really does.  

“Don’t worry, we won’t go inside,” Furihata says. That seems to be enough for Akashi, whose shoulders slump as if they just let out a deep breath, as if the weight of the world had just been lifted off their shoulders.

“Where will we go instead?” Akashi asks, eyes still glued to the house in front of them, tall and majestic and chilly under the winter sun.

“Let’s take a stroll on the beach,” Furihata says after a while, his breath visible in the cold air, as if he was part fireblood instead of the freshwater that runs through his veins, “There’s something you need to see.”

It takes a while for Akashi to respond, no doubt mulling the pros and cons within their head, calculating all the possible outcomes and the probabilities that come with it, reason warring with trust. Furihata is patient, and waits for Akashi to make a decision.

(As much as he wants to drag Akashi out to the beach immediately, he makes himself wait. Furihata knows that Akashi has spent far too long being under somebody’s rule, enough that making decisions outside of the business realm is a lengthy process in and of itself.

If Akashi says no, he’ll lead them back to the car and drive them back into the city, far away from the house that haunts them so. They may not be the closest of friends, but he will not be the monster that strips Akashi’s agency away from them.

He will not be Akashi Masaomi.)

Eventually, Akashi nods at him.

“Lead the way,” Akashi says, so Furihata tugs on their linked hands, and starts to walk around the beach house and onto the beach.

It’s the middle of winter, so the beach is generally devoid of any sort of human life. Perhaps a stray nereid might be laying around somewhere, combing their hair or grooming their scales, but both him and Akashi have water in their blood (though Akashi’s is stronger than his), so the likelihood of any water creature lingering on the beach actually caring about their presence is slim.

They walk slowly, shoulders brushing as they walk side by side across the beach. The salt in the air crawls like ants on his skin, and he’s reminded of the last time he was here, when the salt wrenched its way underneath his fingernails and every step he took felt like drowning, lungs burning like fire and ice. He tries to play it cool, but judging from the way Akashi tightens the grip on their hands, it shows on his face anyway.

“Are you alright?” Akashi asks, and their steps start to falter. He must look really bad if even ice prince Akashi wants to stop for him.

“It’s fine,” Furihata says after a while, tugging Akashi forwards as he picks up the pace again, “We just have a little bit more to go.”

“You still haven’t told me exactly what you want me to see,” Akashi says, letting Furihata drag them across the sandy shores.

“And I’m telling you, you’ll know once we get there,” Furihata replies, squinting as he tries to locate the tear between this world and the next, “You just need to trust me.”

“I do,” Akashi says, and they say it in such an assured manner that it sparks some unknown warmth within him, a low unnamed rumble of something-that-could-be-more coursing through his chest. The salt still stings, makes his heart pound a little too fast, but with Akashi’s hand in his it’s easier to ignore.

It doesn’t take long before a weird feeling overtakes him, and with the way Akashi’s shoulders tense, he knows that they’re feeling the same way too. Furihata stops walking.

“We’re close,” Furihata says, before turning to Akashi, “I need you to close your eyes, if you still want to follow me.”

Akashi looks at him, eyes piercing into his as if they were looking for something, before nodding and sliding their eyes shut. Furihata closes his eyes too, lets the water in his veins thrum as that strange feeling overcomes him. It’s only when the feeling starts to subside, ebbing and flowing gently through him that he opens his eyes again.

They’re here.

“You can open your eyes now, Akashi,” Furihata says. Akashi does so, and Furihata watches as their eyes narrow when they take in their surroundings.

“Where are we?” Akashi asks, subtly worrying at their lip as they look at the sand beneath their feet, “This… isn’t where we were before.”

“”Honestly?” Furihata asks back, shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t know. All I know is that there’s a tear or a portal of some sort on this beach, and sometimes other water types enter this place for whatever reasons they might have. I thought you of all people would have an answer, actually.”

“This is… unfamiliar to me,” Akashi says, voice small and hesitant for once. Furihata doesn’t like it very much.

“It’s not really our job right now to worry about it, I guess,” Furihata says, starting to walk forwards, before halting when he finds Akashi standing in place, “I’m just here to show you something. We can figure out the details later.”

“And I’m just supposed to trust that you’re going to show me something good, am I?” Akashi asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah,” Furihata says, “I mean, if you say we’re done, then we’re done. Say the word and I’ll lead you back out and back into the car, no questions asked. It’s just a matter of whether you trust me enough to keep on going.”

“Strangely enough,” Akashi says, looking down at their entwined hands, “I do.”

“Okay,” Furihata says, lips quirking upwards, “Let’s go then.”

They walk for a few minutes longer, the sand crunching beneath their boots like glass. Furihata does his best to focus on Akashi, and on the task at hand (his weird phobia of the sea can wait). It doesn’t take long until they see a large rock in the distance, right where the sea meets the shore, and atop it a bright streak of red.

“What-” Akashi chokes out, eyes widening as they approach, the red streak morphing from a blurry patch into long red locks atop someone’s head, a seal’s pelt resting across their lap. Furihata can only squeeze Akashi’s hand, before turning his attention to the lady on the rocks.

The name is thick on his tongue when he says it, but he says it loud and clear, until the lady on the rocks has no choice but to turn around.

“ _Shiori_ ,” Furihata says.

He sees the way Shiori’s eyes widen, the way her hands start to shake and the way her fingers curl into themselves, as if she wanted to reach out but couldn’t (or wouldn’t). He hears the way Akashi gasps, feels the way their fingers tighten around his and, if he concentrated very hard, the way the water in their blood just _sings_ at the redheaded selkie’s presence.

Slowly, he loosens Akashi’s grip on his hand, gently resting it on the small of their back before giving them a gentle push forwards.

“Go,” Furihata says.

And so Akashi walks, one foot in front of the other, as if caught in a daze, shoulders taut and fingers clenched, until they’re right in front of the rock, looking up at the redheaded woman. Although they’re meters away, Furihata can still hear their conversation, carried over to him on the winds.

“Seijuurou,” Shiori says.

(She sounds awed, regretful, contrite: a million unsaid emotions poured into a single word.)

Silence.

Both Furihata and Shiori wait for Akashi to make a decision.

“Mother,” Akashi replies.

Even from meters away, Furihata can hear the sound Akashi’s heart makes when it starts to thaw.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are some notes on Furihata and Akashi's characters (mostly because the middle part fleshes them out but that's not posted yet...):
> 
> 1\. Furihata is a quarter naiad: His grandmother on his mother's side is a naiad who fell in love with a human. He does have a few water-y abilities, but they're pretty weak since he has more human blood in him than naiad blood. His abilities generally have to do with healing and soothing. 
> 
> 2\. As seen in the first chapter of 'Deserted', Shiori's a selkie whose pelt was hidden by Masaomi for years until Akashi accidentally discovers it and returns it to her at the age of five. She leaves the very night she gets her pelt back, leaving Akashi to be raised up under Masaomi's watch. Of course, this fucks their personality up big time. As they are half-selkie, they are generally pretty powerful, and can detect people's emotions and rather faintly see into the future. 
> 
> 3\. This is a fantasy au where the reason why the miragen play superpowered basketball is because all of them are either mythical creatures or hybrids or are partially human, and therefore essentially have superpowers. All the stuff in KNB canon still happen, and Furihata remains a vague acquaintance of Akashi's into adulthood, until he contacts them again.
> 
> 4\. Furihata has met Shiori at some point, and realized that Akashi is her kid. (This will be explored more when I finish the second part lol)


	3. Horrible Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Kouki, we need to discuss-_ what _are those on your feet?” Seijuurou says._
> 
> Chapter 3's prompt: pets // **AU**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since one of today's prompts was 'AU', I decided to revisit the idol AU that Jynxiii/Julia and I came up with! Both Julia and I have written for this au before, and I'll put links to the other fics we've done at the notes at the end. 
> 
> The last chapter was all serious and long and shit, so have 800 words of mindless idol au fluff for today lol.

“Kouki, we need to discuss- _what_ are those on your feet?” Seijuurou says, lips pursed in confusion and disgust as he stares down at the other idol’s socked feet.

“They’re socks?” Kouki replies, wriggling his toes as he swings his legs while sitting on a table, snorting slightly at how the red fabric warps and distorts when he wriggles his toes, “I bought them from this nice old lady near that ramen stall we always go to, aren’t they cute?”

“No, they really aren’t,” Seijuurou deadpans (and Kouki can feel the copious amount of judgement just emanating from the redhead, but at this point he’s comfortable enough around him that it doesn’t bother him all that much).

“Aw, come on,” he whines in reply, lifting his foot up and nearly shoving it in Seijuurou’s face, “You gotta admit, it’s kinda cute. I can see why the fanbase would want to buy them.”

“I don’t see how _anyone_ could find my face on a sock appealing, Kouki,” Seijuurou says, frowning as he bats Kouki's foot away from his face, looking at the Akashi Socks™ like they had personally offended him, insulted eighteen generations of his ancestors and tried to feed him a five course seaweed-themed meal all in one go. Kouki personally finds the expression on his face absolutely hilarious.

It’s hard to imagine that he would ever reach a point in his idol career where he would stop being at least slightly nervous or wary of Seijuurou, but at the group’s been together for years now, and at some point the shock and awe of having a critically acclaimed idol with years of performance perfection under his belt on the same group as him had given way to Seijuurou’s terrible bedhead in the mornings and his tendency to marathon really old anime (and by old he really means _old_ , like _Astro Boy_ and _Mobile Suit Gundam_ and _Sally the Witch_ ) the night before a fanmeet. At some point, the perfect and cold shell that Seijuurou loved to shield himself with had been torn down, brick by icy brick, and Kouki loves him ever the more for it.

It also means that teasing Seijuurou was ten times more entertaining and ten times _less_ pants-shittingly scary than it was two years ago, so Kouki does it even more nowadays.

“It just means that enough people find you so attractive that they want to capture your likeness on their socks and wear you on their feet,” Kouki casually states, patting the spot next to him on the table until Seijuurou huffs and moves to sit next to him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek and twining their fingers together.

“I can’t tell if you’re trying to compliment me or insult me, Kouki,” Seijuurou says, lips quirking upwards.

“Well you’re the one who kissed me and held my hand right after insulting my socks: how’s _that_ for a mixed signal?” Kouki asks, grinning cheekily as he moves to lean his head on Seijuurou’s shoulder, idly playing with their entwined hands as he feels Seijuurou breathe in and out.

“Being in love with you doesn’t mean I can’t criticize your horrible taste in socks,” Seijuurou says. He says it in such a casual manner that Kouki’s heart soars so high it would break the ceiling and fly out the roof of the building, and he finds himself nuzzling at Seijuurou’s shoulder, amazed at the sheer amount of cheesy happiness that one sentence brings him.

“Mm, you say that now,” Kouki says, moving to lean over and gently press his lips to Seijuurou’s, “But you’ll change your mind. I know it.”

“We’ll see about that,” Seijuurou says, and leans in to kiss him again.  


* * *

  
A week later, when the team (‘the team’ meaning everyone sans Kise and Himuro because those two happened to have a photo shoot scheduled today) is having an impromptu meeting with their manager and choreographer, Seijuurou slides into the loveseat, an arm instinctively moving to wrap around Kouki’s waist, and takes his shoes off.

“Oh my god,” Kouki says, looking down at the little cartoon version of him three eras back ( _god_ , why did _anyone_ think colour contacts were a good idea) printed on Seijuurou’s socks, before throwing his head back and laughing his ass off. Somewhere in front of them, Momoi hides a snicker behind her hand, Kuroko snorts, and Mibuchi coos and immediately puts a photo of it on his story on snapchat.

“Where did you even _get_ those?” Kouki asks, cheeks red and hurting from laughing so hard as he slides his shoes off to reveal his own Akashi Socks™.

“I have my ways,” Seijuurou replies, a sly smile and a twinkle in his eyes as he places his right foot next to Kouki’s left one, the two idol socks being displayed side by side, “But at least we match now, right?”

“You’re horrible,” Kouki whines, mock-swatting at Seijuurou before laughing into his shoulder.

Mibuchi coos again, and Kuroko mimes retching in the background. Momoi can only shake her head and smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idol socks amuse me so much pft. I saw quite a few of em being sold in stalls when I was in Seoul haha
> 
> The design of the socks kinda vary depending on the group, but I generally based them off [Ravi and Leo (from VIXX)'s socks](http://www.madara4ma.com/ebay/socks/vixx/vixx_ken_ravi_leo1.jpg). 
> 
> Other fics in the idol au series include: [this](http://genderqueerfuri.tumblr.com/post/127223123027/akafuri-singer-au), [this](http://mayuzumichiihiro.tumblr.com/post/130756710948/short-one-shot-for-sheen-and-my-idol-au-that-tag) and [this](http://mayuzumichiihiro.tumblr.com/post/134233275153/part-of-sheen-and-my-idol-au-no-warnings-apply) (which is actually for day 4 of furiaka week!)

**Author's Note:**

> All works written for Furiaka week will be reblogged onto the [Furiaka Week tumblr](http://furiakaweek.tumblr.com), so please check em out if you want to see other entries!
> 
> You can also find the full prompt list for all the days of the week [here](http://furiakaweek.tumblr.com/prompts/).


End file.
